


the seas between us broad have roared

by abscission



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: M/M, natsume week 2k17, prompt: greetings/goodbyes, that ayakashi after Matoba's eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abscission/pseuds/abscission
Summary: An exorcist is no more different from the masses of the city than a flower is to a field.A piece about Matoba Seiji.





	the seas between us broad have roared

**Author's Note:**

> did I go for greetings or goodbyes? I have no idea.
> 
> This is an AU moment after the second Hakozaki mansion incident.

He doesn’t like cities. Too many people, too much noise. The youkai stay away too.

Matoba tries to not let the curious gazes on his eyepatch affect him. The cloth grates, and he holds back the urge to tug at it.

Talks went well, and the political savviness of his peers helped, but sometimes despite the elders’ insistence it feels like Matoba Seiji is carrying the clan by himself — a fact not too far from reality.

He sighs, loosening his tie.

Autumn is drawing to a close, a chill worming its way under his skin. His suit is not enough to keep out the cold.

His fingers itches for his umbrella.

The bond with the ayakashi is what keeps his clan powerful—his right eye is what keeps his clan powerful, but not him. His power is inherent, as much a part of him as the ayakashi’s need to obtain the eye. He doesn’t require the connection to stay a playing piece, he doesn’t even require two eyes to function, as the past few years as clan head has proven, but his clan does.

He has an obligation to his clan.

And it is roughly a month from the last attack.

Matoba makes his way with increasing haste towards a park, the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably. Park shelters have served him well as protection in the past, providing an overhead cover while giving him full view of his surroundings just like his umbrella.

He ducks under one just as the greying sky opens up and floods the earth.

“Quite the downpour,” says a voice, light and airy, and Matoba whirls around, a hand reaching for the concealed blade. How had he missed another presence?

He relaxes slightly when he sees it’s Natsume Takashi sitting in the shade of the shelter, his fat cat curled in his lap, sleeping, and shifts his grip off the blade. That cat sure takes his body-guarding duties lightly—rare that it’s not glaring at him.

Lighting is dim, the sheet of rain making it more so.

“Eh,” Matoba agrees, then falls into silence, listening to the raindrops drumming on the roof. The scent of wet earth washes over him, the rain’s cold breeze ruffling and a weariness separate from the cold soaks into his bones. “Taking shelter from the rain?”

Natsume smiles quietly, stroking his cat.

The talks were taxing; his clan members were really only there as a show of force.

Compared to formal talks, he much prefers dealing with ayakashi—at least with those, one good shot ends things. He can’t very well go around shooting politicians that make too many requests, can he?

Matoba watches the rain, then tilts his head back, closing his eyes, allowing himself a second. Surely, Natsume would think him mad for the silence. Matoba feels a small smile coming to his face at Natsume’s nervousness, sitting huddled in a corner of the shelter, as far away from him as possible.

Thunder rumbles, leaving a static buzzing in his ears. The back of his neck prickles, and for once he ignores it.

Taking a deep, refreshing breath, he turns to address the teenager. “What a coincidence to meet you here, Natsume—“

Lightning chooses that moment to flash, and in the eerily blue light, he sees that Natsume had stood up, the cat now transferred to his shoulder, still sleeping, as much a part of his body as the mess of black, pulsing tendrils sprouting from his— _its_ —right eye, the quiet, gentle smile still on its face.

“Indeed,” says the thing in Natsume Takashi’s voice, “What a coincidence, Matoba.” and reaches out a hand towards his face.

There was a moment of shock—Matoba stands rooted to the spot, staring at the thing’s golden eye and the smile still on its face, thinking absurdly that _Natsume-kun wouldn’t be wearing this expression_ before a blackened nail scratches the paper seal, and he throws himself backwards, into the rain.

The ayakashi abandons all pretense of being human.

Tendrils of black, looking like a child’s crayon scrawls and so _wrong_ against the backdrop of reality that it makes Matoba’s eye water, explodes out from the body’s empty eye socket. The mass of lines swarm on the ground, the boy-and-cat’s figure now a literal piece of skin, quickly gobbled up by the ayakashi.

 _RIGHT EYE_ it says, a grating, hollow, unearthly voice, and it raises its head to stare at Matoba, _WHERE IS IT?_

Matoba thinks fast.

He only brings the most basic of sealing materials when going for talks, and none of those would work on the ayakashi—it’s too powerful.

Throwing out a shadow _shiki_ only gives him a second more, and as the ayakashi’s quivering mass descends on the servant, teeth gnashing, Matoba turns and runs, splashing through the grass.

He pauses to catch a breath at the edge of the trees, smiling in resignation at his ruined suit, and hears the ayakashi roar—

_RIGHT EYE. GIVE IT TO ME!_

—he breaks into a run, hearing only the deafening drum of his heartbeat and the slithering, crunching sound of the ayakashi’s movement. Mud flies under his shoes, and he gets an idea.

One hand making sure his phone stays in the jacket pocket, Matoba leaps onto the first outcrop of rock he sees, touching a hand on the ground to steady himself, blinking rainwater out of his eyes, and sure enough, there’s a puddle of mud not too far away.

Matoba takes a breath, clamps a hand over his jacket to make sure as little mud gets into the inner pocket as possible, then dives for the mud pond.

He rolls, coming up tacked with mud and dirt and soaked to the skin. His hair flops onto his paper seal and down his back, but he doesn’t let it bother him. He ducks behind a tree, and calls Nanase.

A few quick words later and he has to keep running.

 _EYE!_ the ayakashi gives a screech, voice warbling, soul-tearing,  _YOU PROMISED. **YOU PROMISED.**_

Matoba ignores it, firing off a quick message. Now all he has to do is outlast the ayakashi until clan members arrive.

*

Nanase never comes, but she sends five men. They appear with unbrellas, and that draws the ayakashi’s attention.

Matoba breaths easier, darting to join his clansmen. He grabs an umbrella and doesn’t let the relief of having the familiar talisman in his hands show on his face.

“Hey, you big oaf!” Matoba shouts, and just about gets himself heard over the downpour.

The ayakashi shambles around, mouth gaping, and as one the Matoba clansmen flares their umbrella in front of them.

From behind the waxed paper and past the streams of water running down his face, Matoba sees the ayakashi waver, turning between one pattern and the next, before finally giving up.

It slinks away into the shadows, muttering.

The humans lets out a collective breath.

One turns to Matoba and inquires after his safety.

He is ignored.

Looking at the imprint of the ayakashi’s tracks in the grass, Matoba Seiji grimaces. The one constant in his life is an ayakashi that wants to eat his eye.

Bitterly, he murmurs under his breath: “Let’s meet again, next month."

**Author's Note:**

> title from auld lang syne.


End file.
